


Hero

by Akiko_Natsuko



Series: Reaper76 [34]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Apologies, Death, Fallen Heroes, Fights, Guilt, Heroes & Heroines, Loss, Loss of Innocence, M/M, Memories, Past Relationship(s), Promises, Serious Injuries, Survivor Guilt, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-07-30 01:16:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16276193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiko_Natsuko/pseuds/Akiko_Natsuko
Summary: It used to be second instinct to save every life, regardless of the cost to himself. Now a moment of hesitation reminds him that whilst heroes might never die, they can fall...but also that maybe, just maybe they can rise again.





	Hero

   Back when he had been Strike Commander he had never allowed himself to revel in the fight, sternly cutting off that part of himself and at some point, he had forgotten how to switch off the part of him that had to constantly worry about those he was fighting with, those he was fighting for and the ever-present pressure of the public. Reyes had taunted him about it once, saying that he was a cardboard cut-out of the soldier he had once been, back before the promotion, and as much as he had hated to admit it he hadn’t been able to argue. He’d looked the same as the man who had endured the SEP program, who had served as Gabriel’s second in command, but he’d was nothing like that man. At some point he had lost the fire, the drive that had fuelled him back then, leaving him as little more than an empty shell, a puppet that had parroted the rules and expectations forced on him.

   The events in Zurich had changed all that, had changed him in ways that he wasn’t sure that he wanted to understand. And now as he darted across the alley, the pulse rifle heavy in his hands, blood pounding in his ears, he felt more like himself than he had for years and he hated it. Hated that so much had needed to happen for him to get back to just being a solider, hated the fact that he wasn’t even a soldier anymore…he was a vigilante now, and it was all he had left of himself, of Gabriel, of Overwatch…

 ** _“These aren’t your streets anymore!”_** He wasn’t entirely sure who he was angry at now. Himself, the gang, the poor Omnic whose beaten body he had found a while ago…Gabriel… Overwatch…the list was endless and he channelled it into his hand as he beat the unfortunate gang member he’d trapped beneath him, punctuating each word with a blow, nut there was no satisfaction as he let go of his makeshift weapon just as a terrified scream rang out making his head shoot up, finger inching towards the trigger on his rifle.

 ** _“No!”_** The sight of the young girl scrambling back in terror, her expression growing more fearful as she met his gaze gave him pause. When had he got so caught up in the battle that he could no longer realise when there was a civilian in the area? His stomach churned as he straightened, her desperate pleading cutting him to the core. When had he become someone that scared people? **_“Please! I…”_** She had just seen him tearing the gang members apart, seen him bashing someone’s head in. He could see it in her eyes, he was a monster in her eyes and that realization gives him pause, a mistake when he knew there were still more gang members in the area and he whirled at the sound of a vehicle, snarling as a truck swerved into view.

 ** _“Get on the truck! Let’s go!”_** The surviving gang members were scrambling onto the truck as though it was their last hope and it was already beginning to move, reversing with a dull roar before the noise broke through his shock and he charged, hands tight on his weapon as his voice rang out.

**_“You don’t get off that easy!”_ **

**_“Eat this!”_** The grenade sailed past him, and he noted it with little concern after all he’d survived worse, and whilst he’s beginning to slow down a little with age it will still take more than that to take him down. However, the terrified gasp from behind him reminds him that he’s not alone, and he tilts his head to see that it has clattered to the ground between them, closer to her than him and that she’s scrambling back, too frightened to get to her feet and run, her wide eyes darting around in search of rescue.

   Once upon a time it would have been second nature to lunge for the girl, to throw himself at the grenade despite the danger to himself, because she was a civilian, an innocent, the kind of person he had joined Overwatch to protect. The type of person he had failed by allowing Overwatch to fall into ruin beneath his feet…

   Instead he hesitated, the sound of the grenade hitting the ground echoing in his ears even as he swung his attention back to the truck as it swerved around the corner and out of sight, his feet moving without thought as he already knew that he’d lost them. He’s hurt them, thinned their numbers, but he hasn’t won and a growl rumbles in his chest. _I lost…I failed..._

    A terrified whimper draws his attention back to the girl, along with an ominous click and his eyes widen behind the visor as realisation slams into him. _Damn_ … He’s turning, spinning with all the speed his enhanced muscles can muster and flinging himself forwards, eyes locked on her terrified face even as a small part of him realises that it’s too late…. he hesitated too long…focused on the wrong thing. That realisation has barely registered, his body still moving forward when the world vanishes into smoke and flame and pain, but none of that registers, because all he can hear is her scream as it is swallowed up by the boom of the explosion.

   When the world comes back into focus he finds himself on the ground, pain radiating through his body and a worrying crack running the length of his visor and his gun lying a short distance away. Grunting he makes up onto hands and knees, coughing from the smoke in the air even as he reaches for the rifle, unwilling to be unarmed event though he doubts that there is anyone left in the area after that…and his breath catches as he remembers why he had lunged towards the explosion rather than away, and for a moment he is frozen, unwilling to look, but equally unwilling to hide from the truth. After all that was what had cost him everything in the first place.

   It is worse than he had expected. The alley is destroyed, but he doesn’t have eyes for that, instead his gaze is locked on the small form lying crumpled against the far wall. Once pristine clothes are stained with dirt and blood, scorched and he can smell burnt flesh and hair and he gags at the smell, it’s a scent he’s painfully used to after fighting for so long. But this is different. She is different and so he gags and struggles to hold back the bile that rises in his throat. _No…_ It’s hard. Harder than anything he’s done in a while to move forward, steps slow and hesitant, a weight settling on his shoulders as he watches, waiting hopefully for her to stir or cry out. Silently pleading with her to do something to show that she’s alive, to show that he hasn’t screwed up as badly as he knows he has. He should have known better, hope was something that had deserted him the day he had lost Overwatch…lost Gabe…

“H-Hey Kid,” he can’t keep the slight waver out of his voice as he reaches her, dropping heavily to his knees beside her, pain lancing through his side. However, the pain he can ignore but the guilt he can’t, because now that he’s this close he can see that her chest is still, her eyes wide and staring, still filled with the same terror she had shown when she had seen him. His rifle falls to the side, his vision blurring as he reaches out and rolls her onto her back…she’s so young…the guilt is rising like a wave now, and he wants to snatch his hands back, feeling unworthy of even touching her and yet still he reaches out, fingers trembling slightly as he reaches out to close her eyes. Out of respect, he tries to tell himself, but he knows that he’s actually trying to hide from her eyes. From the dead stare that feels rightfully accusing, and he snatches his hand back and bows his head.

“I’m sorry…”

_What have I done…?_

**

   He can’t remember the last time he’d had a good night’s sleep. The dark hours are always plagued by endless nightmares, or rather memories. E=Every decision that he made that went wrong, every life lost, it all came back to him at night and he had grown used to it over the years. However, this was different. The guilt was too fresh, a foul taste on his lips and an unpleasant, clenching sensation in the pit of his stomach. He’d called the police, not wanting to leave the girl undiscovered until someone ventured into that alley and unable or unwilling to move her himself. Instead he had retreated at the sound of sirens, watching from the safety of a nearby rooftop as they found her, his eyes strangely dry as he watched them move her body before finally fleeing the scene. Retreating to the abandoned warehouse he had been using as a base, tossing aside his weapon as though it had burned him and sinking down against the wall, not even bothering with his ratty bedroll. There was no point, because he knew that there would be no sleep for him tonight, or anytime soon, her final scream echoing through his mind once more.

   He’d hesitated. He never used to hesitate, never thinking twice about his actions when he was in the field. How many times had he been pulled up for recklessness? For throwing himself into danger to protect a single life? A broken chuckle slipped out as he let his head fall back against the wall as he reached up and roughly ripped the visor away from his eyes, not that it would help, the world had become a strange hazy, grey-lit world…but the memories were as bright and vivid as always and the chuckle became a weary sigh as he let his eyes close.

_“What the hell were you thinking Morrison?” Gabriel is right in front of him, face twisted into an angry snarl that does nothing to hide the concern in his eyes, or the way his hands are trembling slightly as he checks Jack for injuries. There is no way for Jack to hide his wince as searching fingers press on his ribs, or when the other hand finds the graze on his arm and he can’t bring himself to look at the older man when he hears the soft growl that escapes. “Damn it Jack…”_

_Gentle hands are pushing him down onto the ground and he gives in, legs folding beneath him as he leans back against the wall, exhaustion and pain crashing into him now that he no longer needs to hold on. Now that he no longer needs to fight. “You’ve got to stop doing this…”_

_“I can’t,” Jack mutters, hissing as Gabriel puts pressure on his bleeding arm, ignoring the dark glare that he can feel burning into him as he stares out at the ruined remains of the village that had been caught up in their fight. “I want to protect them.”_

_“You can’t protect everyone, Jack.”_

_“I can try,” Jack counters, tilting his head to meet Gabriel’s gaze and there is a hint of desperation in his voice as he asked. “What was the point of going through SEP if I can’t do that?” There had been times, on the days when the side effects had left him bedbound, bleeding from the nose, his body feeling as though it was turning itself inside out that he had asked himself if it was worth it or why the hell he was doing this when originally all he had wanted to do was be a soldier. The answer had come on his first mission, when he had thrown himself over a small child to protect them from gunfire, his enhanced healing letting him re-join the fight almost immediately, warmed by the fact that he had saved someone and that had become his purpose. He would endure anything as long as he saved every life he could._

_“At what cost?”_

_“Gabe?”_

_“Would you choose one life, over all the others you could potentially save?” Gabriel asked and Jack pauses, staring at him incredulously for a moment. Was he asking him to choose? He shook his head, there was no way he could choose, no way he would choose, he didn’t have the right._

_“Yes.”_

_“Sometimes,” Gabriel didn’t look surprised by his answer, just disappointed and there was a heaviness to his shoulders as he turned away before adding softly. “Sometimes the world needs you to make that choice.”_

   That had been one thing they had never agreed on. For Jack the thought of sacrificing even one life had been unbearable, it had been one part of the Strike Commander’s job that had nearly broken him many times. It was one of the reasons he had always known that Gabriel had been better suited to the job, he could make those kind of decisions, Jack couldn’t, and it had cost him more people than he could ever imagined. But was that even what had happened here? He hadn’t been thinking about the bigger picture, about the good that could have been served by completely eradicating the gang. Oh, he had been aware of it at the start, it had even been part of his motivation in going after them. But in that moment, he had been lost in the thrill of battle, completely focused on his prey. It wasn’t that he had weighed the potential benefits against her life and made a decision, he just hadn’t acted, and something shattered in him at that realisation.

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry…” He whispered, eyes burning and for the first time in years there were tears on his cheeks and his hands shook as he reached up to swipe them away, he didn’t have the right to shed tears, not for this. _Apologies and tears will only get you so far Jack_ , a painfully familiar voice echoes in his memory and he squeezed his eyes shut, dark eyes and an even darker scowl flashing through his thoughts and this time his apology is for someone else. “I’m sorry…” He can’t help but wonder what Gabriel would think of him now, what he would think about what Jack had done today and he hates himself for thinking about that now. Even as he fears what the answer would be, even more than he fears what the rest of his old comrades would make of him now.

_Apologies and tears will only get you so far Jack…what will you do when that’s not enough?_

****

   He couldn’t leave. He had half a dozen leads to follow up on, and he knew that the longer he stayed in one place the more likely it was that he was going to get caught, but he couldn’t go, not yet at least. Instead he spent endless nights huddled in his hideout, plagued by memories and thoughts of a time that he wished that he could forget, constantly questioning himself, torturing himself with everything that he could have done differently. It was a penance of sorts, not that it helped. Instead all it did was leave him exhausted, haunted and he felt almost like a ghost, not fully there as he waited, drifting aimlessly around town during the day, slipping through the shadows until finally he heard the news he was waiting for. The girl, Alejandra he learned her name was… another name to add to his list, another name burned into his memory…was to be buried in two days’ time, and it felt like another lead weight had been added to his stomach.

   It was a small town. A close-knit community, and therefore everyone knew everyone, and in those last two days of waiting he had found himself watching as the entire town mourned. It was agonising to watch and yet he couldn’t look away, couldn’t hide from it, instead he hid and listened to tales of a girl on the cusp of childhood, of a girl who had dreamed of heroes and he took each story and added it to the guilt swelling in his chest, because this was what he had cost this community, this world. This was the life he had failed to protect, that he had hesitated to protect because of a hunger to complete the job. _Heroes never die_ , Mercy had always told them, but now he knew that wasn’t completely true, heroes might not die, but they could fall…and he had fallen further than he had ever thought possible.

   The day of the funeral was bright and sunny, completely at odds with the storm in his chest as he made his way to the cemetery. The service had already finished, but that was okay, he had decided against going to that because there was too much chance of being spotted. That and it was too private, or at least that was what he told himself, because it was easier than facing up to the fact that even now he was trying to avoid the reality of what had happened. The reality of what he had done. Not that, that was possible as he watched them carrying the coffin towards the waiting grave, unable to tear his gaze away. It was so small…his breath caught as he found himself back in the alleyway, her eyes fixated on him, accusing in death and he pinched himself hard to bring himself back to the present. _I did this…_

   He didn’t pay any mind to the speeches, too far away to hear much of them anyway. Instead his gaze was fixated on her family, watching as they fell apart, weeping as their child was laid to rest and his chest tightened painfully as his eyes stung again. _I did this_ … There had been a time when this sight had been all too familiar, but those children had been much older, soldiers lost to the Omnic war…lost in action…lost doing what they had chosen to do, even if he had never been able to see it that way, taking each loss personally. But this…she…was different. Just a child, an innocent who hadn’t chosen to get caught up in the war but had been swept up into it by chance because of him. He closed his eyes, head bowed and for a moment he could almost imagine warm arms wrapping around his shoulders.

_“Why are you doing this, Jackie?” Gabriel had found him, he always did, slipping into the back of the funeral and wrapping his arms around him. It was the fourth funeral in as many days after a particularly disastrous mission. Jack hadn’t known the men that well, but still he had gone to each funeral, burning their names and the memories that their families told into his memory. It was his memorial to them, his apology for the fact that he hadn’t been able to protect them. Gabriel was quiet during his explanation, he always was, arms tightening before he sighed and dropped his head onto Jack’s shoulder. “That won’t bring them back or change what happened…”_

_“I know…”_

_“Keep their names if you really have to, but turn them into bullets,” Gabriel murmured softly, and when Jack glanced up he found the older man was staring at where the grave was slowly being filled in, eyes haunted. “The war isn’t going to stop, nor is death…. dwelling on that will just kill you faster. All you can do is take each loss and move on, using it as strength.” Jack opened his mouth intending to protest, to point out that he couldn’t do that, that he was different. However, Gabriel had already continued, his voice softer than Jack had heard it for a while. “It’s the only way we can keep going.”_

_It’s the only way we can keep going_. He closed his eyes, the warm voice echoing in his ear and he sighed as the feeling of arms disappeared and slowly he straightened. The leaden weight of his guilt was still there, he doubted that he would ever be free of it now, but now he was moving against it, hands curling into fists at his side as he watched them beginning to cover her coffin, and for a minute wide, accusing eyes filled his mind and he gritted his teeth. _Dwelling on that will just kill you faster_. Maybe that was what he wanted, it was what he deserved, but he could see Gabe’s face in his mind, concern and disapproval in the dark eyes, hands surprising gentle even as he shook him, trying to make him see sense and he groaned, a low defeated noise as he bowed his head…

"Alejandra…” He murmured to himself after a moment, taking a deep breath to try and counter the dull ache that rose with her name, committing both the name and feeling to memory before slowly he forced himself to turn away. He couldn’t be a hero not anymore, not with her blood on his hands and her name etched into his mind, but he could still fight. He could turn her name into bullets, and he could see Gabe nodding in his mind at that declaration, but his hand clenched at his side. Bullets, war, fighting that was what had killed her…could he truly honour someone like that? He hesitated, glancing back as a broken wail rang through the air, the ache in his chest intensifying as he saw her mother fighting to get to the grave. His resolve such as it was threatened to shatter at least until he caught movement at the back of the crowd, and his eyes narrowed, finger rising to tap of his visor so that he could zoom in and a low growl rumbled in his chest and his fingers itched for his gun. “Los Muertos…”

   There was no mistaking that get-up, and his hands clenched tighter as he fought the urge to charge at them. They didn’t seem to be there to cause trouble, just watching, and that realisation sent a shiver up his spine. If they were looking for answers to what had happened in the alley and it had led them here, it would only be a matter of time before they went for Alejandra’s family, which meant that it wasn’t over…

   He watched the man for another moment before forcing himself to turn away, refusing to turn the funeral into a battle ground, not that he could do much without his gun which he had left concealed out of respect. However, now he had a purpose as he moved away through the cemetery, his mind racing, his thoughts still haunted by accusing eyes and frightened screams but determined to make sure that no more voices were added to that memory.

_I’m not alo hero…_

_I couldn’t protect you…_

_But I can protect them for you…_

****

Two Weeks later:

   He cursed as he stumbled back into his hideout, pulse rifle tumbling unceremoniously onto the ground before he toppled onto the tatty bedroll, blood on his chin from where he was biting his lip to hold back a groan of pain. For several minutes, he just lay there, slightly twisted to the side to try and keep the pressure off his side and part of him is tempted to just stay there. But he still had a promise to keep, guilt prickling at him until he wearily pushed himself back up, a low groan slipping out despite his best efforts and he nearly slumps back, but instead he manages to push himself upright. He might heal faster than most, but its slowing and it can only do so much, and the sharp shards of glass and metal that have penetrated his body armour are stopping the process and he grimaces as he forces himself to reach for them, hissing as the slightest touch sends flickers of pain racing through his side.

_“Here,” Gabriel was suddenly there, knocking his trembling hands aside, fingers lacing with his for a brief second before he turns his attention to the shrapnel that Jack had been trying to remove and his expression darkens with a hint of true anger for a moment. “You should be in the infirmary!”_

_“I can heal, the others might not,” Jack pointed out softly, not rising to the anger and instead he reaches for the shrapnel again, bracing himself for the pain as he adds breathlessly. “Just need to get this out.”_

_“Let me do it,” Gabriel scolds, knocking his fingers away again, studying the injury with intense eyes for a moment before sighing. “This is going to hurt like hell.” Jack nods, not bothering to respond because he had worked that out for himself, and it was why Gabriel had been able to work out what he was trying to do, as he hadn’t been able to hold back a gasp of pain. It’s going to hurt even more when its pulled out…it’s… his thoughts are cut off by the feel of chapped lips against his, the kiss is light, a distraction and the whisper of Gabe’s voice against his lip. “Jackie.” Is the only warning he gets before everything but those lips disappear as pain lances up his side, his vision blacking out for a moment._

   This time there are no lips to distract him, no warm whispers and no gentle hands. Instead there are only his own rough fingers, and he nearly passes out as he begins to yank the glass and metal out of his skin, going for speed over finesse, knowing that he needs to get it all before he does collapse. Still the pain is a reminder that he’s alive, that he’s still fighting, and he focuses on that, his breathing increasingly ragged until finally his searching fingers come up empty aside from the worrying amount of blood now covering his gloves. It takes the last of his strength to reach for a biotic emitter, fingers fumbling to activate it before he slumps down onto his bed, eyes slipping shut as exhaustion washes over him.

**

   He wakes sometime later to find himself stiff and sore, but mainly healed and he waits only long enough to devour a ration bar and down some water, idly noting that he will need more supplies soon before heading out once more. Los Muertos are still hunting for information, hunting for him and he is hunting them in turn. Slowly tracking them down day by day, cutting down their numbers, sealing off their trade routes, destroying their bases and supply caches. It’s a war that has nothing to do with his hunt for answers, and he is aware that other leads are fading, petering out around him as he lingers here, but he doesn’t falter. His promise to Alejandra keeps him tied to this place, to this town and its people. It’s why he haunts the streets at night, making sure that no one else shares her fate until he can chase the gang out completely, and it is why what resources he manages to claim from his hard-won victories are spread amongst the town people. Anonymous donations to the police, to her mother, to anyone and anything that will help keep the town and its people safe when he is gone.

   It hasn’t done anything to ease the guilt, or to drive away the images of her accusing gaze which haunt what little sleep he gets from his mind. He doubts he will ever be free of that. Her name, and face have joined Gabriel’s…a quiet, but constant presence in his mind. But a small part of him is learning to feel again. It is good to be fighting for a reason again, good to know that he is protecting people again and as he passes an old, peeling Overwatch poster on one of the walls he can’t help but wonder if it might be time to reply to the recall, to fight for something other than a past that can’t be changed.

_Heroes can fall…but they can also rise again…_


End file.
